


A Place For Everything

by lovecrumbs



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecrumbs/pseuds/lovecrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And finally, they feel like a team." The Avengers in thirteen drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place For Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatthehellfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehellfairy/gifts).



> A/N: I originally posted this on ff.net. This was a birthday present for a friend.  
> It's a compilation of 13 drabbles (some short and some long) about the complete amazingness that is the Avengers.  
> Pairings: Black Widow/Hawkeye, Pepper/Tony, Steve/Peggy, very, very mild Jane/Thor and Tony/Steve if you squint. Really hard.

**one.**

Only the 'A' is left on the Stark Tower after the battle, and all the Avengers think it's remarkably apt.  
Tony actually considers just leaving it as it is before logic kicks in and he starts repairs on the tower.

But it's fine, because the 'A' will always look extra bright to them.

* * *

**two.**

Love is for children.

People think that she doesn't believe in love. But they're wrong.  
Natasha believes in love, all right. Just not for her.  
She's too professional, too wise, too smart, and too careful to fall for that insipid feeling called love. She's seen far too many people become undone because of love for her to want to experience it too. And in her line of work, becoming too attached is far too dangerous. She tries to keep herself detached and unemotional, distant from everyone- except for Clint, but he's broken through all her barriers and he shouldn't count as part of "everyone", because Clint couldn't ever be just anyone to her.

So yes, love is for children.

But Clint always finds a way to undermine everything she believes in.

Sometimes, they fight (but they never hurt each other). They joke (even though she hardly ever laughs). Or they'll sit together in silence, understanding and knowing, without saying a single word, communicating in unsaid sentences, gestures and looks.

All he does is give her that special smile he reserves just for her, and she'll put aside her cynical beliefs for the moment, because they're both really children at heart.

* * *

**three.**

His date came seventy years too late.  
But the fact that it even came at all is something that he's thankful for everyday.

She's old, really old, with white hair and terrible wrinkles and she's not like the silly, frivolous girls of this age who spend all their time obsessing over their looks (she lived through a war, for God's sake), but she's standing in front of Captain America, Steve Rogers, who still looks perfect and fit and as young as she remembers him to be, and she can't help feeling just a tiny bit conscious.

She's old, but it's in the way she carries herself; she's still holding herself upright and strong, even after all these years, and he feels just a twinge of pride for her. She's a fighter, through and through. He didn't quite know what to expect, but she's still Peggy, the same Peggy he remembers, _his_  Peggy, and he thinks she looks as beautiful as ever.

They're both still; so still, just staring and not saying anything and taking in seventy years worth of change.

"I saw you on the news," she finally manages to sputter out. "I thought you were dead."

Explanations are exchanged, but they're brief and short, because every single second is precious now.

"You owe me a dance," he says, and she smiles.

He gently takes her frail hand in his, and he leads her out into the living room, where they tentatively begin to dance. It's incredibly slow- he has no idea what he should be doing with his feet, and her coordination isn't exactly what it used to be, but he doesn't mind. He's drinking her in, almost scared that he might forget the way her eyes sparkles or the way the light hits her face.  
(As if he'd ever be able to forget her.)

She's swaying, slowly and softly, but in that moment, she's young again.

He leans in to rest his forehead on hers, she laughs slightly.  
He's missed her laugh.

They continue to dance. But this time, something's wrong. Because suddenly, she is off balance, and she steps on his feet more than a few times. She stumbles and her eyes are hazy with confusion as he asks what's wrong.

She freezes and crumbles to the floor.

 

He attends her funeral a month later.

He's surprised to see so many strangers there, but then he remembers that the world didn't stop in the time he was frozen in ice. Her life carried on, and she met new people.  
He wonders if she ever got married, but he's not sure if he really wants to know the answer.

She lived through a world war. She lived through countless epidemics. She lived through every single terrible event that had taken place in the seventy years he was frozen, and she died of a stroke (dancing with him).  
Life has a great sense of irony, he thinks.

He doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself for that, ever (though he knows Peggy would have rolled her eyes and told him to stop being sorry because it wasn't his fault), but sometimes he remembers just getting to hold her, and managing to keep the last promise he ever got to make to her, and that makes things a little better.

(But not much, because there's still a hollow gap where his heart used to be.)

* * *

**four.**

All she knows about him is that he's got a warm smile and kind blue eyes.

Oh, and that he's Captain America and he saved her life.  
He doesn't know her name and probably doesn't even remember her; she's just one helpless civilian in the grand scheme of things, and he was just doing his duty by saving her. He's Captain America, after all; that's what he does- help people.

She looks at the television, where yet another news report about the Avengers is showing. Captain America appears onscreen, and she smiles.  
"Thank you," she murmurs softly under her breath.

In the grand scheme of things, she doesn't matter much.  
But it doesn't change the fact that he saved her life, and he matters very much to her.

He might not know who she is, but she doesn't mind at all.

* * *

**five.**

Phil Coulson's funeral is a small affair. He's well-known by the SHIELD agents, and they remember him fondly, but he's always been a more private man, and that doesn't change in death. Only a handful of people are invited, and the whole event is quiet.

Nick Fury, having worked with the man for so long and having known him so well, is the one who organized the funeral. He is first to speak.  
He isn't the type to beat around the bush and make long, flowery speeches, recounting hundreds of anecdotes and then tearfully listing down all of the strengths of the deceased and completely ignoring the flaws. His words are short, to the point, but honest and sincere.

Clint and Natasha go up together, and he holds her close as she keeps her face down, leaving him to do all the talking until the very end, when she raises her head and speaks with a soft kind of fierceness. She talks about her first week at SHIELD after switching sides, and he brought her a cup of coffee.  
It's a minor incident and she doesn't explain further, but everyone understands the significance.

Steve Rogers doesn't speak at all. What he does do, however, is sign every single one of Phil's Captain America collection cards and then place them all together into the coffin with Phil.  
He slips one into his pocket for himself when he thinks no one's watching, though.

(Nick Fury sees the whole thing, and he nods his head once as Steve passes.)

Bruce doesn't really know the man, but he goes up to say a few words anyway.  
"Phil was the kind of man who could inspire a haphazard team of different, argumentative heroes to work together."

Tony and Pepper go up next.  
Tony's hands are clenched incredibly tightly, and his words are terse and a little jumpy. He only calms down when Pepper places her hand over his, and he slips in a DVD collection of Supernanny into Phil's coffin on the way back to his seat.

Thor goes up with Jane Foster, who speaks for the both of them. Thor doesn't say much, but he holds up his hammer, which is always with him, and the coffin glows for a minute as everyone keeps their heads bowed.

 

The event is quiet, but the silence that rings on in everyone's ears after it is deafening.

* * *

**six.**

He should have known that he was never going to win.

He's always been second best to Thor, who got all the love, all the power, all the recognition. Loki's just the one who went wrong, the one who never amounted to anything, and the one time he thinks he might be able to best everyone else, he fails (as always).

He's always been second best, but this time he isn't even in the running.

He has a muzzle over his face, just like a dog. And not even an underdog (those always emerge top in the end), but just a dog, d-o-g, as in the opposite of god, g-o-d, d-o-g, dog.

 

Except for one thing; dogs are loved.

Loki has never been.

* * *

**seven.**

After the Avengers have saved the world, Pepper sees one missed call on her phone.

"Tony? You called me earlier?"

Pepper has always been perceptive, particularly when it comes to a certain Tony Stark, and she doesn't miss the look that crosses his face- the startled one that people get when someone brings up something they didn't expect and that they'd really not talk about, and he closes his eyes for a second like he's trying to forget something. Somehow, she picks up that he might be a little hurt, and she knows something's really wrong, because Tony Stark is never hurt.

She's a smart woman. She remembers everything that everyone has told her about what happened, and she connects the dots quickly.

The dots form a picture, and she feels like someone just pulled a rug from under her feet.

_Whoosh._

Something in her kind of crumbles when she realises it might have been the very last call he would have ever made, the very last time she would have heard his voice, and the very last time she would listen to his snarky humour (she pretends it's annoying, but they both know she loves it). The prospect terrifies her to no end, and she finds herself gripping her phone so hard her knuckles are actually white.

Later, she calls him at three in the morning, and he picks up.

"Hmmrph?" he murmurs sleepily into the phone, barely half awake.  
"Tony," she says.

He's a little more awake now.

"Pepper?" he says, and she can hear the gears turning in his head. "W-wait, is something wrong? Are you alright?" She can hear the worry in his voice, and it makes her feel warm all over as she pulls the blankets closer to her body.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she tells him. "I just… I just wanted to call to tell you I love you."

There's a pause, but she isn't worried.

"I love you too," he tells her, and she can hear the smile in his voice, which makes her smile even wider in response.

She never misses a single call from him again.

* * *

**eight.**

Bruce is always worried that he might blow up, or something might go wrong, and he might just turn into the other guy.

He keeps it to himself, but because of how unpredictable he is, he doesn't always see himself as part of the Avengers. He's vulnerable; he's a liability, and honestly he thinks that the Avengers would be as well off, if not better off, without him.

Then one day, Stark punches him in the shoulder.

It's a light punch and doesn't hurt at all, but it's pretty sudden. They were talking over breakfast and Bruce had just agreed with Stark about something, and suddenly- thomp.

He looks up at Tony, expecting a mocking smirk and trying to chain down that… that thing bubbling inside him, but when he looks up, any trace of the other guy completely vanishes, because Stark has a genuine smile on his face.

He looks around the table, and everyone has the same easygoing, relaxed smile (except for Natasha, because she hardly ever smiles, but she has her guard down for the moment and he knows it's her own way of smiling) and he feels himself start to smile a little, too.

 

He's not angry all the time anymore, and that's okay.

* * *

**nine.**

Thor has no idea what to do with his brother. His family is… well, screwed up, as Tony Stark likes to say.

But at least he knows he'll always have a family back on Earth.

 

(And Jane Foster, of course.)

* * *

**ten.**

Tony's about to barge into Steve's room just to annoy him for the sake of it (it's ridiculously entertaining) when he realises the door is slightly open.

He looks in, and he sees Steve reading over some files on his bed.

Immediately, Tony stops short. He knows what the files are- Steve had actually come to him for help in getting those just a few days ago, and his eyes had looked so lost and desperate that Tony didn't even have the heart to ridicule him.

The files contain the information of every single one of Steve's friends from seventy years ago.

Tony draws back and looks away awkwardly, feeling like he's intruded on something private. It's completely personal and Tony really shouldn't have been here.

He hastily moves away, but in his haste, he hits the door, and it slams shut.  
He swears. Loudly.

The door is open seconds later, and Steve looks at him, slightly confused, but then he sees Tony quickly walking backwards and seems to understand.  
"Just passing by," Tony tells him, and Steve says nothing, just nodding and watching as Tony makes a quick retreat.

The next day, Tony makes plans for a short outing (they are on leave from SHIELD, after all) with all of them.

They drive to Brooklyn, and everyone knows exactly why.

 

Steve shows them around proudly, practically glowing.

He's still glowing when they return to Stark's tower.

 

There's a sketch stuck onto the fridge the morning after they return, a simple but accurate depiction of all the Avengers at the table they usually have breakfast at.

The picture is small, but the significance is enormous.

* * *

**eleven.**

They're all back to doing missions, and one day, everyone gets a call, telling them that one of the Avengers has been injured.

They don't know which one it is, but every single one of them rushes to finish their job and makes their way back to SHIELD headquarters.

It's Clint.

 

He's lying on the bed, unconscious, and they're all at a loss, because despite not knowing him that well (and certainly nowhere as well as Natasha does), he's always looked fairly carefree and amused (or focused and firm when serious), and this blank  _nothing_  is just completely out of place.

He has nothing on Natasha, though. Natasha is completely deadpan and even more emotionless (if it was even possible) than she usually is. She stands next to the bed, still and unmoving besides the occasional blink. When she does move, she doesn't make a single sound or give any indication that she's aware of her surroundings. The others don't bother trying to elicit a reaction from her, knowing that she's going to remain in that state until Clint wakes up.

They visit as often as they can, and when they're not there, they worry.

 

He wakes up.

Everybody is there when he does, and when his eyes flicker open, they all gape. Nobody does a thing and just watch disbelievingly as Clint starts to sit up.

And then, Natasha hits him in the shoulder.

"Ow," Clint groans, rubbing his arm, and the rest start to come out of their stupor. Natasha crosses her arms across her chest, her face stony.  
"You're an idiot," she states. But when he turns towards her, she unfolds her arms and lets him squeeze her hand.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asks, even though Clint's ribcage was broken, his right leg is in a cast and he just came out of a coma (they all know it's a stupid question, Bruce included).

"Never better," Clint quips, and he gives them all a lopsided grin.

Everybody exhales in relief and reverts to acting normally, because Clint's smiling and that means everything is alright.

 

Sometimes they overlook Clint as part of the Avengers. They don't mean to, but they all remember that he hasn't always fought with them, and that's probably why he's the one who's most distant from the team.  
But they don't anymore, because the Avengers wouldn't be the Avengers without every single one of them.

* * *

**twelve.**

One strange night, the six of them decide to drink.

It's a spur of the moment decision, and they have no idea why they agreed, but it happened, and now they've resolved never, ever to drink together again.

They never speak about that night except in subtle references and inside jokes to each other, but those are short-lived and quickly replaced by embarrassed coughs. But they will admit just one thing they know about that night:

Russians can really hold their liquor.

* * *

**thirteen.**

They're at the shawarma joint, and they're eating.

Besides the background noise and the sounds of Bruce and Thor stuffing their food down their throats, it's silent.  
(Steve wonders if it's just their thing, or a twenty-first century thing, before deciding to forget it and promptly shoving half the plate's contents into his mouth.)

Tony observes the five other people sitting around the table and smirks to himself when he notices Clint's leg on Natasha's chair (well, Thor, Bruce and Steve notice too, but they are far too polite and worried for their genitals to react, and anyway it's not like it's the first time there was a hint of something more than just good partnership between the two).  
Clint and Natasha notice, but they don't particularly care. (Natasha does roll her eyes, though.)

The silence isn't particularly awkward, or strained. It's just the kind of silence you have when you're eating in a barely standing shawarma joint just after saving the world.

"This is good," Thor mumbles through his chomping.  
"Mhmm," Bruce manages to make out as the rest mutter their agreement.  
"You two seem to be particularly enjoying your meal," Stark mentions, jerking his head in the direction of Clint and Natasha, and everyone pretends that the thump that follows (and the sharp wince of pain from Tony) is an accident.

 

And finally, they feel like a team.


End file.
